


Loyalty

by antimorston



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: (but not in charles), Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Loss of Trust, M/M, anti dutch sentiment, but it’s an unnamed npc, emotional validation, i just want to warn that it’s not graphic but it is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 10:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20851625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antimorston/pseuds/antimorston
Summary: When it comes to Arthur, he himself feels shame, but Charles feels love.





	Loyalty

**Author's Note:**

> i usually try not to write about death much in my fics but an unnamed npc is killed in this work, it’s not explicit but i do want to warn anyone who sees this (as well as the tags) that there is an ounce of canon typical violence to watch out for at the beginning

Things were not going well. 

A botched mansion robbery set the law on their tail, and the Van der Linde gang was booking it. They weren’t in an area where they could split up, though, as the winding streets of Saint Denis were sure to get them trapped by the lawmen and the Pinkertons if they didn’t have the force of the entire group behind them. 

Arthur nearly shuddered at the thought of everyone getting picked off one by one. He kept his eyes moving, glancing down side streets and scanning balconies. He wasn’t in charge, but he had, on more than one occasion, held their fate on his shoulders. Keeping watch would allow him to react first, as he _ was _ the brawn of the operation more often than not.

He was lost in his silent analysis of his role as Dutch’s “head enforcer,” but not so lost as to dull his awareness of the situation. An obstacle in their path pulled him, not gently but not _ not_-gently, from his thoughts. 

It was a man, crossing the street. He hadn’t gotten the memo to hide passed along by gunshots and screaming and explosions from the last half hour, Arthur assumed. His head jerked in their direction and he froze as Dutch indicated for the gang to stop. 

The man was trembling, and Arthur caught the one thought that passed through his mind–why didn’t Dutch have them go around him? This was not uncommon to happen, and they had never stopped for a civilian before. 

“Kill him,” Dutch hissed as the man stood still as a statue in front of the group.

Arthur didn’t move, his mind reeling. He knew the words were directed to him, as he was directly beside Dutch, but did he hear him correctly? 

Kill him?

Since when did they do that? 

“_Kill him, Arthur,_” Dutch repeated, not a request. It was a malicious order, one that Arthur had never before been given. 

He did. He wasn’t sure he was going to be able to look anyone in the eyes for a long time. Bile rose in his throat and he swallowed it down, glad that no one could see any part of his expression besides his eyebrows, furrowed in anger. He scowled and put his pistol back in its holster, sliding to the back of the group. Charles tried to catch his eye, as did John, but he didn’t meet either of them, still trying not to throw up. 

Then they were off again. They travelled as a group until the edge of the city, then Dutch gave the order to split up. 

Arthur, dry-heaving silently under his mask, spurred his faithful mare past a gallop as she bolted into the trees. Unbeknownst to him, John and Charles had locked eyes, silently deciding which of them would stay with him, since they couldn’t both do so. Arthur’s brother and Arthur’s best friend came to an unspoken agreement, and Taima followed the tracks of Arthur’s horse deep into the wilderness. 

Charles caught up to him not long later. He pretended not to hear Arthur’s heaving, gagging breaths, and not to notice the way Arthur jerked in his saddle when he heard Charles approaching. They rode in silence for a while, Charles leading since he noticed that the tears in Arthur’s eyes wouldn’t assist him in navigation. Arthur kept his focus on Charles and Taima, close enough that he could still see them through his blurry vision, and followed. 

Suddenly, Charles started to slow, and Arthur did the same. They were a good distance away from where the gang had split up, Charles judged, though he didn’t know quite how long they had been riding. 

Arthur slid down from his saddle, digging through his satchel as Charles started to hitch Taima to a tree. 

“I think we’re clear,” Charles whispered once he had finished. Arthur collapsed against a large tree trunk, lowering his head as he sat down. Charles watched him as he worked to untie his mask, noticing that Arthur wasn’t doing the same. “You can take the bandana off, Arthur.” 

He received no answer, just silence. Arthur looked like he was a dead man. Charles knew why. 

He stepped closer to where Arthur sat hunched against the tree trunk and crouched quietly. “Arthur…” He murmured. Arthur flinched away and buried his head between his knees.

“Don’t, Charles,” he warned. 

Charles didn’t. Instead, he sat next to Arthur as the other breathed in shaky and slow. 

The sun had started to dip behind the trees surrounding them by the time Arthur lifted his head. 

“Arthur,” Charles said, “talk to me.” 

“Things are getting out of hand.” He said it as though every word was poison in his mouth, something filthy and forbidden to say. Treacherous. “I can’t…Loyalty means everything to me.”

Charles stayed silent next to him as he worked through his thoughts, trying to piece them together just as Arthur was. 

“Dutch...he raised me. Him and Hosea, they were the only real family I ever had, until John. And they’re his family, too, just as they are mine.” He squinted at the dirt in front of him, tears forming in his eyes. “But things aren’t the same as they were. Something bad’s startin’. I think–” he stopped himself with a gasp, like he had just caught a priest cursing in church. “No, no.”

“What do you think, Arthur?” Charles prompted, his nerves lighting up with anxiety. 

“I can’t say. I’m loyal. Always have been.” 

“Loyal to Dutch?”

Arthur flinched. 

Charles considered letting Arthur stay silent, but he knew it would eat at him for however long this _ situation _ with Dutch went on. “That he’s starting to turn into just exactly what he taught you to fight against?” 

He grimaced and wiped at his face. “I guess so. He ain’t the Dutch I know.” 

“I feel the same,” Charles said. 

Arthur sighed. 

“Things _ are _ going bad, and I know that you know it. You’ve known it for a while now.” Arthur jerked his head up to look at Charles, and Charles nodded. “John told me what you said about him getting out with Jack and Abigail.” 

Arthur let his head fall again, his breaths slowing ever so slightly, as though Charles knowing of his treason lifted a weight off of his shoulders. 

“I want you to promise me, Arthur, that when things really turn, when you’re _ sure–_” Charles reached over to settle a hand on Arthur’s knee. He felt warmth rise in his chest when Arthur didn’t flinch away from the touch. “You’ll get out, same as John should, same as anyone else should.” 

Arthur looked up again, his eyes holding a mixture of emotions that Charles couldn’t even begin to decipher. 

“You don’t have to stay until the very end. You know what’s right. Hell, come with me, if you want. I’ll probably be helping the Wapiti tribe, seeing how badly things are going with them.” 

Arthur didn’t speak for another moment, then nodded. “Thank you, Charles.” 

“Come here,” Charles whispered. “It’s alright.” He felt his heart stutter as Arthur turned and leaned in close, but he ignored it. Arthur’s eyes didn’t move from his own as Charles reached around to the back of his neck to undo the mask’s knot. It came loose under his careful fingers easily, and he gently pulled it away from Arthur. 

His lower lip was bleeding the slightest bit, and Charles remembered that one of Arthur’s anxious ticks was biting at his lips. It wasn’t usually enough to break the skin, but he knew that Arthur was certainly anxious enough that day to worry a hole straight through. Charles moved impossibly closer, one thumb wiping away a fresh drop of blood. Arthur sighed and leaned into the touch, and that made Charles’s heart start to twist in his chest again. 

He wiped the blood on his jeans and reached his free hand to cup at Arthur’s cheek. “It’s alright,” he repeated. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Arthur sighed again, this time letting his tear stained eyelids flutter closed. 

Charles held his face in his hands for a long time, minutes that felt like hours, then leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. 

“You’re a good man, Arthur,” he whispered before his anxiety at their position overwhelmed him. “One of the best.” 

Arthur, who had been mostly stone still the entire time that Charles had had his hands on him, tilted his chin forward and pressed his lips onto Charles’s, long and slow and gentle. 

**Author's Note:**

> hello. cowboys. i am kind of in a block right now, so if you enjoyed this, PLEASE leave a comment because it will give me one more fluid ounce of motivation :3c  
here is [my tumblr](https://transcharthur.tumblr.com)


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